


This Could Be Good, I Think

by MrRhapsodist



Series: Little to Me [3]
Category: Dead To Me (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Bedwetting, Diapers, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Judy Needs A Hug, Memorials, Miscarriage, Moving On, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-26 19:20:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19012228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrRhapsodist/pseuds/MrRhapsodist
Summary: Six months later, Judy hasn't quite settled things from her past. She tries to exorcise her demons, but she can't go it alone for the night.Not while Jen's around, at least.





	This Could Be Good, I Think

Every candle had to mean something. That was why Judy Hale had bought five different ones. All different shapes, all different colors. Even the way she knelt down on the guesthouse floor and lit them, one by one, was unique. A smile here, a gentle bob of her head there, a snippet of a song or two, and utter silence by the end. Press hands together, open her heart to the universe, let her spirit sing to those beauties, those angels out there waiting for her.

She hated this date.

Six months to the day since what happened with Steve. Half a year gone by. Judy fucking hated it. Hated the calendar app on her phone. Hated the sad smile Jen gave her on her way out the door to work that morning, or the way they hardly spoke during dinner. Judy had tried—really, she had—to put on a good face. To listen to Henry talk about school, or to remind Charlie that eating his vegetables was a good way to getting ice cream for dessert. But under the suburban fluorescent lighting of the dining room, Judy felt like everyone could tell.

They had to know, didn’t they? To see the secret etched on her face. To see the pain written there.

Five babies she would never get to hold. Five times she and Steve broke apart.

Judy was a wreck. Some days, she wondered how Jen could ever stand having her around.

In the bathroom, she’d wept into a towel. A slap across her cheek had sparked fresh tears. To make sure she was all cried out. So that, when Judy turned down the lights and set up her candles, she wouldn’t have anything left inside.

Curling up on her bed, she watched the candles slowly burn themselves out. Judy remembered the hard press of a hospital bench, and a nurse’s arm around her shoulders. The pain below her waist, the raw agony of it all. Everything came back, and she sniffled into her pillow. She didn’t hesitate to grab the baby blanket from its spot on the bed, clutching its downy fabric to her chest.

Judy nearly leapt when she heard a knock on her door.

Glancing up, she saw Jen’s face through the window. Jen stood outside, dressed in her robe and sleep attire with a bag slung on her shoulder. She waved, and Judy stumbled onto her feet.

Opening the door, she stared at Jen. “S-sorry! Am I keeping you up, or...?”

“Keeping me... what?” Jen blinked. “No, I... wait, are we _not_ doing this routine then?”

They’d been falling into the same routine for weeks. At a certain point, Judy’s body decided to stop cooperating, leaving her with a wet bed night after night. Jen had intervened, taking charge and buying her diapers to wear so they wouldn’t be doing a load of laundry every morning. It’d been awkward, but Jen had been so sweet that Judy went along. She’d found Jen’s motherly side and, truth be told, she adored every second of it. The way Jen invited her upstairs, the way she put Judy in a diaper, the way they hugged and kissed as girlfriends sometimes did.

But not tonight. Judy hadn’t realized she’d forgotten to tell Jen.

“I...” Judy sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “It’s complicated. Maybe you should come in?”

Jen did so without a word. Closing the door, Judy turned and saw her friend examining the candles on the windowsill. When she looked back, Jen frowned and gestured to them.

“Is this another yoga thing?” she asked.

“Not exactly?” Judy went and sat down on the bed. She waited for Jen to sit beside her, leaning into the other woman and sighing again. “It’s for the babies. You know, for the ones I didn’t...”

“Oh, my God, I’m sorry.” Jen hugged her as tight as she could. “Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t, I swear...”

“I wish you’d told me sooner, Judy.”

“I’m _sorry—_ ”

“You never have to apologize. Not to me.” Jen rubbed the small of Judy’s back, and she leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Not anymore.”

That helped. Hearing those words made Judy smile, if only for a second. She sniffled, and she hated that fresh tears were forming in her eyes all over again. But if Jen noticed, she didn’t say anything.

“What’s in the bag?” Judy asked.

“Our nightly routine.” With a sharp laugh, Jen pushed herself off Judy and began to rummage through it. “I thought you might need it since we keep all these things inside _my_ room.”

“You didn’t have to come down here.”

Jen stared at her for a long time.

“You’re grieving,” she said softly. “I figured you needed time alone.”

Hearing that alone made Judy fall in love with her all over again. Like the first time she laid eyes on Jen at the grief support group, noticing the way she’d tasted horrible coffee and looked so sad. No one had deserved to be that sad, and Judy had a soft spot for the outcasts in any group. Her feelings for Jen only got more complicated after she learned about Ted. How could she ever make it up to her? How could anyone ever love Judy after all the things she’d done? But Jen kept coming back to her, and Judy kept hoping that things would get better.

Half a year had gone by at the home they now shared.

Half a year and, no, things _weren’t_ better. Only different.

“I need _this._ ” Judy wiped at her eyes with a corner of her baby blanket. She fought past the hitch in her voice. “I... I need this space, and I need this house, and those wonderful boys, and I... I...”

“Shh.” Jen pulled her friend into her chest, cradling her like she did every night in bed. “You’re gonna be all right.”

“I need you, too,” Judy whispered. She closed her eyes, pushing out the last of the tears.

“I know, honey. I know you do.” Jen laughed and kissed her hair. “You need your Mommy.”

Those four little words changed everything. Judy wept in Jen’s arms.

She didn’t even notice the candles burning themselves out.

* * *

She saw everything through blurry, tear-filled eyes after that. Jen took over because that was what Jen _did._ She sometimes asked for permission, but she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. Judy didn’t protest when the other woman went through the bag, removing everything they used in their nightly ritual. A diaper, baby wipes, cornstarch powder, a canary yellow pacifier, and a pair of pink sweatpants.

Jen raised an eyebrow and waited for Judy to slide off her pants and underwear. They shared an awkward chuckle before the diaper and powder went on.

Judy adored the scent. At first, when they went shopping for baby items, she’d looked askew at Jen as the latter dropped a bottle of cornstarch powder into their basket. But Jen had shrugged and countered with, “Hey, it’s _your_ ass. You want to get a rash or not?”

After the first time they’d tried it, Judy became a fan. The way Jen smiled when sprinkling the powder between her legs made Judy feel far more at ease. Far more like she belonged there.

With the diaper taped on, Jen gave her friend’s bottom a few loving taps. She helped Judy put on the pink sweatpants, and she reached for the pacifier from the bottom of the bag. Jen held out the rubber nipple. After a moment’s hesitation, Judy took it into her mouth. She smiled around the soother, giving it a few sucks. Jen grinned. Her fingers traced a gentle curve along Judy’s cheek.

“There’s my sweet girl,” she whispered.

Those words were magic. Hearing them put Judy into a deeper space, one where everything really was rainbows and dancing fairies in the dead of night. She snuggled into her Mommy’s chest, trying to match her breathing to Jen’s heartbeat. Feeling warm, secure, and dry. Tight against Jen’s chest. Her eyes falling shut as she shifted in place, her diaper rustling against the other woman’s thighs, and smiling behind her pacifier.

“Let’s go to sleep, honey bunny,” said Jen. She often called Judy _honey bunny_ when it was time to bed. It was another thing they’d tried out. Another security measure against bad dreams and late-night cryfests.

Judy slid off Jen’s lap, waiting for her to stand up, stretch, and turn out the lights. As Judy crawled into bed, she made room for Jen. The other woman nestled right into her under the sheets, her shoulders still carrying that earthy tone from her hairspray, along with a dab of rosy perfume and deodorant. Her arms were surprisingly strong, enfolding Judy into her bosom, and her fingers quickly stroked their way through her hair.

“You’re good now?” asked Jen.

Popping the pacifier out of her mouth, Judy smiled. “Never better.”

“Mm. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Judy leaned in for a quick kiss. They cuddled together, and she let all her fears melt away.

* * *

Judy woke up with a gasp.

She scrambled to escape her bed, but Jen was blocking her with one arm tossed over her chest. Judy didn’t try to dislodge it. Turning her back to Jen, she faced the wall beside her bed. It was cramped, but she made it work. Easier that way. Staring at nothing was good. Mind-cleansing.

It meant less time thinking about Steve. Less time hearing the impact on her bumper, or feeling the blood trickle between her legs in the delivery room.

Judy thought she might be sick. She took several deep breaths, willing her stomach to settle. That helped. Easier to inhale lungfuls of the sage she’d burned earlier that evening. Easier to swallow up the aroma of Jen’s deodorant and hairspray. Reaching down between her legs, Judy felt around the front of her diaper. It sagged at her touch, and she almost cried when she felt how heavy and warm it’d gotten.

“Okay...” she mumbled behind the pacifier in her mouth. “Okay, this is fine. It’s fine, it’s...”

“Judy?”

Turning around, she saw Jen, wide-awake and staring. Judy pulled the pacifier out of her mouth. She tried to speak, but all that came out was a tiny, terrified squeak.

Dammit.

“Honey bunny, shh.” Jen was already in full mother mode. Her arms encircled Judy’s waist, dragging her closer. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. You just had a bad dream, that’s all.”

“Not a dream.” Judy hated the squeak in her voice. “It was _real..._ ”

“The accident?” Jen prompted. After a moment, in a lower voice, she added, “The miscarriage?”

Judy nodded. Doing that, and seeing the look of concern on Jen’s face, made her face crunch up, and she blinked back new tears. Leaning her head into Jen’s shoulder, she wept, and she hoped that she could fall asleep again. She’d give anything to be sleeping and _not_ reliving the past.

Once, she’d told Jen she’d give anything to go back to how things were before. Now all Judy wanted was to be right there. To be held, fast asleep, and utterly content.

But her past caught up. It always did.

“Hmm.” Without asking, Jen reached around and tapped at the front of Judy’s diaper. “Well, I think _someone’s_ pretty wet. We’d better change that.”

“You don’t have to—”

“No?” Jen sighed. “Well, _that’s_ a relief. It’d a good thing my best friend doesn’t need a Mommy anymore.”

Judy ducked her head. “That’s uncalled for.”

“Yeah, I know.” Jen gave her a quick hug, followed by a kiss on the forehead. “Come on. Let’s get you changed before you leak all over us. It’ll be fast, I promise.”

Once more, Judy didn’t resist. She let Jen flip her over, kicking off the sheets as she began to change her diaper. Wrinkling her nose at the smell, Judy closed her eyes while Jen cleaned her up. She hated the feeling, but she adored the attention. It wasn’t the best moment, but true to her word, Jen had the new diaper in place in a minute. The wet diaper was in the trash, and a scent of baby powder lingered in the air.

Judy breathed in the new smell as Jen climbed back into bed alongside her. Their fingers locked together beneath the now-cold sheets.

“Better?” asked Jen.

“Much better.” With a smile, Judy fished around for her pacifier. She plopped it back into her mouth, giving it a suck as she nuzzled her friend’s neck.

Over Jen’s shoulder, in the twilight of the guesthouse, Judy saw the half-melted wax silhouettes of the candles she’d lit. She tried to imagine each baby, be it a boy or a girl, and she felt her abdomen tighten against a burst of phantom pain. But the moment passed. Her eyes drifted shut, and she let them go, one by one. They’d still hurt her, but Judy had her defense in the arms of a woman who caressed her hair and face until they both fell asleep.


End file.
